


Out of the Fiery Furnace

by fabricdragon



Series: The Book of John [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BAMF John, Bargaining, Brainwashing, Combat, Dark Mycroft, Deals, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Evil Mycroft, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, John-centric, Kidnapped Sherlock, M/M, MK Ulltra, Memory Alteration, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Past Brainwashing, Rescue Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-22 11:19:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9605567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabricdragon/pseuds/fabricdragon
Summary: Jim Moriarty and John Watson join forces to rescue Sherlock, after all, turnabout is fair play... but this may be worse than anticipated, and the price for the alliance is high.  Add to that the fact that John Watson has severely conflicted feelings, and a lot of Sherlock's problems may not be what they appeared, and you have a recipe for disaster.





	1. Chapter 1

John confessed to Mary the next time he saw her.  He felt horribly guilty about it, even though he knew their relationship hadn’t been honest, either.

“You?” she blinked at him. “Seriously?”

He looked away. “Yeah, it’s… I’m sorry, but I really suspect I would do it again,” he paused, “preferably without an audience.”

She didn’t look upset. “So can I ask?”

“Sure.”

“What’s he like? Because he goes from looking sexy as hell to looking like a dweeb, and from screaming threats to asking you to pass the vinegar. I always wondered what he was like in bed.”

John looked a bit startled and then reminded himself that he really didn’t KNOW Mary that well.

“Dangerous, sharp, exciting… um… it felt wonderful, but my mind wasn’t keeping up, I’m afraid.” He smiled, “I take it you haven’t then.”

“He never expressed any interest,” she shrugged, “and in my line of work sleeping with the boss can be very bad or very good– but usually bad.”

“Honestly, I think he’s only interested in me because of Sherlock,” he frowned, “and we need to find out if he’s okay, actually.”

 It took John quite a bit of time to work up the nerve to ask Sebastian anything, mostly because even when he did start he kept blushing.  He finally retreated to military discipline and kept his eyes on the man’s shoulder.  Luckily, Sebastian never gave the slightest hint that anything had happened.

“The boss has been keeping an eye out for him, but frankly when Sherlock wants to go off the grid, he’s good at it.” Sebastian shrugged, “We usually found him by watching his friends.”

“Ah, well, right,” John sighed and rubbed his neck

He was turning to leave when he stopped. “Don’t watch his friends–watch Mycroft.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened, then he looked at John with more respect and nodded.

Three days later, Jim called John and Mary in to a conference.

“You have good ideas Johnny boy: we found him. Mycroft found him early yesterday and dragged him to a supposed rehab clinic, except, as far as I can tell, it’s not.” Jim smirked, “So, since you didn’t want to go back to letting him rescue you? How about you rescue him?”

Jim obviously expected John to jump at the chance.

“That depends.”

Jim blinked, a lot. “Depends on what, Johnny?”

“On what you plan to do with him once he’s rescued. I’m not helping you put him in a worse situation.”

Jim gave him the oddest look. “You really are something else, Johnny.” He shrugged, “I have no idea what I’ll do with him, honestly. I’ve been finding out that Mycroft was pulling more of the strings than I thought, and that… that might change what I want.” He tilted his head. “So until I find out what’s going on in that clinic, and what Mycroft’s really up to, I have no idea.”

John closed his eyes.  _I believe that.  Which means I would be going to rescue Sherlock from his brother–and I don’t know that situation– and putting him right into Moriarty’s hands– and I don’t know what that would mean, either._

“I’ll do it on two conditions,” John said, opening his eyes. Mary was staring at him.

“What makes you think you get conditions?”

“Because I’m the only one Sherlock might cooperate with.”

Jim nodded slowly, “I’m listening.”

“I get final call on lethal force.”  He looked at Sebastian. “If it’s my mission, it’s my call.” He saw Sebastian nod– he understood, of course–but that wasn’t the person who had to approve. “The second point is that Sherlock is my call.  I decide if he gets extracted, and if he does I treat him.” He looked flatly at Jim, “And if I let him go, he goes.”

“That’s three.”

“Depends on how you count.” John shrugged.

“Why should I let you? We can drug him and get him out; we don’t need you.”

John snorted. “You need to send in a doctor: one who knows drugs, and knows Sherlock, and knows what’s normal FOR HIM, because he doesn’t react like other people. I think it would take you too long to find another one.”

Jim looked like he was thinking, so John continued, “Besides, even if I let Sherlock walk right out, you’d piss off Mycroft.”

Jim brightened up. “There is that.” He picked up his glass and licked the edge of it. “I want something in exchange.”

“Maybe. What?”

“I get three favors in exchange: three times I can tell you to jump and you just do.”

“Too open-ended,” John shook his head.

“They won’t involve killing anyone, or if they do you can say pass.”

“Can you give me an example of what you might ask for?”

“Handcuffs,” Jim grinned, “or my choice of audience.”

John winced.  _I’m going to regret this_ , he thought,  but a different part of him whispered, Y _ou’re going to love it._

“All right.” John sighed, “Deal.”

Jim grinned wide enough to immediately make John regret it and said, “Great, let’s get to work. Mary’s your sniper and pistol girl. Let me introduce you to the team.” Mary nodded, her face taking on a cool professionalism he’d seen in the field; it looked odd on her face.

John just looked at him, and then at Sebastian. “Give me a pistol; I’m out of practice, but my skills were good.”

Sebastian nodded, “Yeah, I saw the shot on the cabbie.”

John looked up a while later to find himself going over tactics with Sebastian and Jim– who were both brilliant, even if Jim was insane–and with a team of men calling him Doc, a full field medical kit on standby, and captured plans in front of him.

They were extracting a valuable resource from enemy hands, and it was just like being back in the war, and he had to stop himself from laughing as they went over it all. He looked up once at Jim looking intent and focused over the maps, and he suddenly realized that he was grinning.

Jim looked up and caught the look, and he grinned back.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rescue and revelations

John was in the back of a van with his men, checking weapons, getting his medical gear stowed. They were just outside the target’s security perimeter and this was going to be a quiet extraction, if everything went well. He pulled on night vision goggles for the first time since Afghanistan, and grinned as the power got cut. “Let’s go.”

Tranquilizer darts and chloroform at close range made short work of the first perimeter, and Tangier was the best at disabling the backup alarms and security.  John expected a secure facility, but this? This was ridiculous. When the second wave of armed guards was encountered – this group with military grade weapons– John reluctantly changed the orders.

“Cleared to go for lethal response.” His voice was cool and calm, even if he wasn’t. “Remember our target may be in disguise attempting to get out.” Sherlock would, of course, take advantage of this. John didn’t want him shot by accident.

The team moved forward, deadly and focused. John saw someone coming up to the side, weapon drawn, and shot him without thinking. He had a moment of panic before he realized it wasn’t Sherlock– too short, too blond. Morstan was a fabulous shot–Mary, but his military mindset couldn’t call her anything but her last name–and when someone got in amongst their group she pulled a knife and finished him with efficiency that was stunning.

They made it into the medical wing, and John staggered– the way Sherlock was restrained to the bed, and the locks only opened from outside. John forced his mind into medical and moved.  There was a military-looking doctor hiding in the corner holding a gun, but obviously not a combatant.

“Do you know this patient’s medical?” John snapped at him.

“Y-Yes?”

“Drop the gun and you get to live.” John aimed his gun straight at him and so did Gregson, Morstan being out covering the exits. He was smart: he dropped it. “Get his records, I want everything on him,” John snapped.

“John?” Sherlock’s voice, weak, slurred. “I’m sorry I killed you.”

“What?” John stared at him. _He looked drugged out of his mind_. He was restrained to the point that he couldn’t move.

“I didn’t mean to. I… I’m sorry.” Sherlock was shaking his head.

“What’s in his IV?” he snapped at the doctor.  The man answered and John went white. He pulled everything from the port, and called over the coms, “Target acquired. We need medical on standby at base–“ he started rattling off  drugs and tests.

 _Heroin, they were GIVING him heroin, and hallucinogens, and some of the hypnotics_.  He could only hope they balanced them correctly, because otherwise he would be dead before they could detox him.

“If there are any other prisoners? Get them if you can. Acquire any other doctors if you can. Otherwise? Burn this place,” John said in his flattest military command.

Sebastian’s voice came in a moment later, “Good job Doc, I’m taking command on scene for clean up; your team’s priority is to get the target back to base.”

“Confirmed,” John replied– _good, I’ll need to focus on Sherlock anyway_ –“Team recall, everyone out.”

*

John was flushing Sherlock’s system as soon as they got to the van.  Much to his shock, Sherlock opened his eyes partway back to base.

“John?”

“I’m here. It’s really, really me.”

“Prove it.”

“What the hell could I say your mind couldn’t make up?”

Sherlock looked puzzled, “I don’t know.”

“Lie there and recover, you idiot.” John smiled down at him. “I don’t know how you’re even conscious.”

“Drug tolerances,” Sherlock said and closed his eyes.

*

They arrived at a different building than they had left– less like a home and more like a warehouse– but it had underground parking, and apparently a secret lair in the basement.  John didn’t pay much attention as Sherlock was rolled into what looked like a better version of the room he’d been in: top level security and full medical.

“Do I even want to know?” John asked the doctor who was there as they arrived.  The doctor just looked behind him.

“That was rather brilliant, Johnny, I think you impressed Sebastian.” Jim was in the doorway, smiling.

Sherlock woke up screaming and trying to claw at his arms.

John threw himself onto him. “Sherlock? Sherlock! Calm down! It’s me!” He was thrashing and trying to get away. “Fuck, you pull this crap on me after you dosed ME full of hallucinogens?  I should kick your ass–“

For some reason Sherlock relaxed. “Oh, it is you,” he sighed, and passed back out.

*

John slept in the room.  He got a copy of the medical records but after a brief look he had to go throw up; after that, he focused on drug recovery and getting Sherlock stabilized.

Mary came in after he passed out on his feet and took a shift.  John trusted her more than the unknown doctor, even if it might be unwise.

Sherlock woke up hallucinating at least once, and several times  aware enough to recognize that John was there, and go back to sleep.  The last time he woke up when John was sleeping and he tried to kill the doctor; luckily, he was still uncoordinated.

“Sherlock! I’m here! I was just sleeping!” John cried out from the cot.

Sherlock snapped his head over and relaxed. “Do you SLEEP in that sweater?” Sherlock mumbled.

“I’m not wearing one.” John walked over. “Can you see me?”

Sherlock focused on him slowly. “Where’s your sweater?”

John laughed, and guided Sherlock back to the bed, watching Mary pick up the doctor. “It’s in my room. I’ve been lucky to grab a nap or a shower. Do you think you’re back now?”

Sherlock looked around, “That depends.  Did Mycroft capture you? Or what, this looks like a different place but it’s terribly similar.”

“No, I got rescued from Mycroft, at the warehouse, do you remember?”

Sherlock nodded slowly, sitting on the bed.

“I’ve been hiding, along with Mary, ever since– Mary is your nurse.” Mary waved as she escorted the doctor out of the room.

“I’ll let you explain it while I get soup,” she nodded and left.

“Traitor,” He muttered with a smile.

“Mycroft…” Sherlock said, tiredly, lying back down. “He found me. I don’t understand.”

“We captured two of the doctors working on you, Sherlock. They were working for Mycroft. They were trying to brainwash you.”

“A ridiculously imprecise term,” Sherlock sniffed. John had never been so glad to hear Sherlock sound like such an ass.

“Sherlock…” John took a deep breath, “It wasn’t the first time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as a note, by the end of the chapter John is still running on adrenaline and sleep deprivation.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> recovery part 1

John had expected almost any reaction: denial, confusion, anger– what he got though was, “Oh.”

“I was expecting a bit more than ‘Oh…’,” John said hesitantly.

“I wondered… I wondered why it seemed so familiar,” Sherlock said, looking pained and lying back in the bed.

“According to the basic medical files,” John said as gently as he could, “this is at least the fifth time you’ve been there.  I don’t know what they wanted, but the drugs…” he bit his lip, “The drugs would do really odd things to your memories.”

“I remember being told you’d been killed by Moriarty’s sniper, because I wasn’t fast enough,” Sherlock said weakly.

John felt sick. “Is that why?” He swallowed hard. “You were apologizing for killing me when I came in…”

“Do you have the records?” Sherlock asked. “Can I see them?”

“I have the medical ones only. I know there are more, but… I didn’t need them right now, I was taking care of you.” He smiled faintly, “Besides, you were attacking any doctors you didn’t know.”

There was a tap at the door and Mary came in with a cart and plates of food. “Hey,” she smiled. “Is he up for soup yet?”

“Yeah, he should be,” John smiled back. “Mary, come meet Sherlock.”

Sherlock frowned at her. “Tattoo. Likes cats. Deadly…”

John cuffed him lightly on the shoulder, “Quit it. This is Mary, who was almost my fiancé.”

“What?” Sherlock blinked at him.

Mary pulled a tray across the bed and put a bowl of soup on it. “John and I got together last year.  I picked him up from the hospital after Mycroft kidnapped him.”

Sherlock looked headachy. “Oh, yes…” Then he looked at her. “No, that’s not right.”

John sighed. “Mary was a spy.  She was hiding out and I was cover; that, and she was trying to keep an eye on me for my guardian angel.” John smiled and reached out to hold Mary’s hand. “And it turns out she’s a hell of a good woman to have at your back when you raid a prison hospital to rescue you.”

Mary startled, and then let herself smile back. “I wasn’t sure how you’d cope…”

Sherlock was frowning, “You thought…”

John interrupted, “Sherlock? Eat your soup. I really don’t want to put you back on an IV, or anything else, okay? Just eat.”

“It inhibits my thinking.”

“So you don’t have to think right now, you need to recover.”

“Eating inhibits your thinking?” Mary asked dubiously. “Sounds like an eating disorder.”

John snorted, “Sherlock, eat your soup.”

They didn’t talk any more until Sherlock finished.  He looked better afterwards in any case.

John waited until the plates were back on the tray. “So has anyone found out what they were doing? I know we captured the one doctor…?”

Sherlock stiffened.

“Yes. They did.” Mary sighed, “I think they were waiting to give you an official briefing.”

“I need to know,” Sherlock said firmly.

“Then the briefing will wait until I’ve gotten us both through a shower, and you’ve had a LOT more to drink, and probably a real solid meal.” John nodded. Then he looked at Mary, “Unless it’s that urgent?”

“No, but he did say he wanted to see you once Sherlock could be left alone.”

John looked back at Sherlock, who was trying to look completely fine and… failing.

“Maybe once he’s showered and all he’ll be alright for a couple hours, let him know?”

She nodded. “You’re a lot more than I thought you were John.”

He grinned, “You too.  May I be forward enough to say I like how you handle a knife, too?”

She blushed very faintly, and grinned back. “May I say I love your command voice on the comms, especially the one authorizing deadly force?”

“What are you two babbling about?” Sherlock snapped.

Mary pushed the cart towards the door. “It took a military level strike to get you out, Sherlock Holmes and John was the unit commander.  Did a damned fine job of it.” She looked solemnly back at them both. “If it weren’t for the fact that I think you’ve been played all along? I’d say you weren’t worth it for the amount of mess you’ve caused John.” John started to protest, but she continued, “But for whatever reason, he thinks you were worth rescuing, so here you are.”

John walked over to her. “Mary, I–“

Mary abruptly kissed him.  It wasn’t at all like kissing Mary, the nurse, sweet girl from the clinic; this was a deadly killer, and even her kisses weren’t the same…

John felt a wave of passion and pushed her into the door without breaking off the kiss.

“John?!” Sherlock was spluttering from the bed.  John pulled back, eyes wide.

Mary grinned up at him. “Damn, he was right.”

“That- That wasn’t like you kissed before…”

“You never kissed me before, John.” She keyed in the lock code, keeping her body between it and Sherlock. “But I think I definitely want to see if we can go past ‘just friends’ now that I’m not hiding.”

John closed the door behind her and turned to look at Sherlock, who was looking at him a bit stunned– and a bit worried.

“She- You knew her cover… that’s what she meant,” Sherlock said, watching his face. “You thought that was better.”

John came over and sat on the chair. “Fuck my life.”

“You rescued me? Authorized lethal force? Who – where did you get the people?” Sherlock was sounding a bit panicked. “I can’t- I can’t figure it out!” He reached up and grabbed his hair.

John looked over at him and grabbed his arm. “Residual after effects of the drugs, plus you don’t have a lot of the information.  You can’t figure it out without the right clues, right?”

Sherlock settled just a bit, then swung his legs over the bed and stood up. John stood up to help him as he swayed. “Shower, a shave, tea, and I want ANSWERS.”

“Of course, Sherlock,” John sighed.

He helped Sherlock get out of the hospital clothing.  Nudity didn’t mean anything to Sherlock but John still had to fight the attraction.  It helped when he saw the mess on Sherlock’s back again– that took sex right out of his head.

“The records said they did some additional treatment for your back, to minimize scarring.  Is that from the whole ‘being captured and tortured’? “

“Yes.” He didn’t say anything else.  John handed him the towel and showed him where his new clothes were.

“You remembered my size?” Sherlock asked.  He looked dubiously at the clothes.

_It wasn’t the style he liked, but they fit, so tough for him._

“No, I can’t go out anyway: Mycroft, you know.”

Sherlock flinched.

“My turn in the shower, just wait here.”

“No,” Sherlock said, walking toward the bathroom.

“What do you mean, ‘No’? I want to take a shower!”

Sherlock stood in the door way staring at him. John finally saw past the annoyed posture to the fear in his eyes.

“I’m not a hallucination. And there’s only one door…” Sherlock stood there. “Fine!” John threw up his hands. “No one in this bloody place likes privacy except me, fine!”

It was a very uncomfortable shower, made even more so by the fact that his hopeless love, the man that he’d wanked off to in the shower more than once, was STANDING there watching him. 

A really uncomfortable shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 3 and 4 are part of the same recovery and what happened story, but... i had to break it in two.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> while John may now know a lot more, that doesn't make the anger go away, and Sherlock doesn't know what's real anymore.

John got dressed, and tried very hard not to look at Sherlock; so of course, once he was dressed– and one of the other nurses had dropped off more food– Sherlock HAD to be Sherlock at him.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “A lot? Mostly because you aren’t well yet.”

“And part of my issue is telling the difference between facts and what I was being told under drugs.” Sherlock’s mouth was a hard line. “I need to know.”

“You tried to claw your arms off the last time anything unexpected happened.”

“Probably trying to get the IV out, since I assumed I was hallucinating,” Sherlock said, wrapping his arms around himself and looking lost. “I… I can’t tell what’s REAL.”

John hesitantly walked over. “Here,” he said as gently as he could.  He pulled Sherlock into a hug, which the man rather stoically endured for a moment before collapsing on him.

“I can’t tell… I don’t know… what’s REAL? What HAPPENED?!  Did you leave? Why?”

John took him over to the cot he’d been sleeping on. “Sit down.”  Sherlock pulled his feet up and hugged around his knees, looking lost again. John put an arm around him.

“Ok let me try to go over this. I probably won’t think the same things are important, and I won’t pretend to understand all of it, okay?”

Sherlock nodded.

“We were flatmates, and I… I eventually wished we could have been more, but you kept poisoning me and drugging me, and I honestly didn’t know how messed up that was making me until you were gone.  It was abusive as hell, Sherlock.  I never knew when you were lying to me, or if you were being nice or you got me tea because you’d put something in it...”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Sherlock muttered.

“That doesn’t matter one bit,” John said quietly. “Or maybe a bit, but not enough. I wasn’t well coming back from the war and the way you treated me… I shouldn’t have put up with it, but I was so grateful to have a friend, and something to do, and some excitement, that I put up with all that abuse.”

John cut him off before he could do more than open his mouth, “And then, as far as I knew, you committed suicide.  You jumped off the roof and all I could think was it was my fault, because I’d done something wrong, or hadn’t done anything right, or I was just too stupid–“

“You aren’t stupid, John,” Sherlock said tiredly. “You just aren’t–“

“Yeah, I know– now,” John shrugged. “But then you were gone.  I tried to kill myself deliberately at least three times, and each time something weird happened.”

“Your guardian angel, you said.”

“I had thought it was Mycroft.” Sherlock snorted at that, and John smiled wryly, “Yeah, I know better now, but who else would have been able to?  I went to jump… from where you jumped…” He felt Sherlock stiffen under his arm. “And then I woke up hours later, with a sore back, in a corner on the roof.” He sighed, “I don’t know why I didn’t realize it had been a tranq dart.  Anyway, I took pills in the flat and woke up in bed with the distinct feeling I’d had my stomach pumped– which I probably had.”  He looked over at Sherlock, “So I thought it was Mycroft looking after me.”

“But it wasn’t.”

“No.  It was the OTHER lunatic genius who didn’t die that day– Jim.”

Sherlock’s eyes went wide in horror and he pulled away staring at him. “He’s a hallucination!”

“I have no doubt that you could have hallucinated him, Sherlock,” John said calmly. ”But the fact is, he was alive, and he saved my life, and he rescued me from Mycroft… and it’s his people who got you out.”

“You got me out…”

John shook his head, “I couldn’t have found you and I couldn’t have done it alone.”

“Your… Mary works for… Moriarty?”

“Mary was given a new life by Jim,” John said tiredly. “I’m still getting to know who she really is, other than a good nurse, and a fabulous shot.  Jim Moriarty is alive and doing quite well, and it’s entirely backwards to call HIM to be rescued from MYCROFT, but I did.” John sighed, “And I made a deal with him that I can’t bring myself to regret at all, in exchange for getting you out, being your attending physician… and,” he took a deep breath, “it’s my call to let you go, if you want.”

“If he’s actually alive, he would never let me GO. He wanted me DEAD!”

“If he wanted you dead, now, you’d be dead,” John said looking at him. “There isn’t a damned thing I could do to stop him, but I think he likes the idea of annoying Mycroft.”

Sherlock was looking very dizzy and finally started muttering, “That can’t be right. So this can’t be right… so it’s a new trick…”

“Stop it,” John said.  He got up and came back with the file. “Here. This is the print copy.  Doses, times… the time before this that they had you in was apparently just before we met.” John took a deep breath, “You were in there for over a month that time, according to this. I’m sorry Sherlock, I don’t have any experience with this sort of thing, I know it must be hard to imagine…. Imagine what I felt like when you just showed UP after you were dead for three years!” He realized suddenly that he was shouting.

Sherlock looked up at him slowly from the file. “You must have thought you were losing your mind.”

“Yes. Yes, I did. I thought I was losing my mind after you died, and then again when you came back…  And then I was so angry… that you’d done that to me.”

“Oh.” Sherlock looked off blankly. “I didn’t think of that.  Why? Why didn’t i?”

“I expect Mycroft had something to do with it.”

“Probably. Didn’t I tell you he was the most dangerous man in England?”

“Yes, you did, now that you mention it.”

After a while, Sherlock went back to flipping through the pages. “That would have been…. Yes, that was when I remember being dragged into rehab by Mycroft… I hated him for that, but I thought…” For just a moment, John saw tears in Sherlock’s eyes, then he blinked and looked distant again. “I need to know.  Is there any way to find out what really happened?”

“The doctors might know, and I know they had more files.  Jim will have been going over them.”

Sherlock shuddered. “Well. That’s… horrifying.”

“If I get Mary back in here, will you eat? I need to go talk to Jim.”

“Only if it’s hot food.” Sherlock shook. “That’s why… That’s why I never wanted to eat… I was drugged….”

“What?” John frowned. “You drugged me sometimes…”

“I don’t know… but I know that I can’t trust any food that’s cold.” Sherlock shivered. “Or even warm. If it wasn’t hot when I got it, it could be drugged.”

John stared at him. “If Mycroft was willing to do this to you… He would, wouldn’t he? Drug you? Drug your food….”

Sherlock nodded.

John sat back. “I’m beginning to wonder about mine…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as a reminder, these are people who have been through hell. they are at best marginally reliable narrators.  
> and hardly dealing with things in a rational fashion.


End file.
